


Love Isn't Iniquity, Dean

by garrisonbabe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrisonbabe/pseuds/garrisonbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam is lifted from the cage just days after jumping in things go silent all over the planet and especially in Heaven. With nothing to distract him, Dean finds himself thinking about old issues, including the odd phrase "more profound bond" that Cas seemed to favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Isn't Iniquity, Dean

It wasn’t something he’d ever anticipated. Yes, he had a mortal vessel, yes he was living more and more as a human every day. But this? No, he’d never thought of this happening in this world. Not once. Not with Dean Winchester. That wasn’t a place he’d let his mind wander.

Okay that was a lie. His mind had definitely wandered, many more times than what would allow him to call the occurrence a coincidence. No, he knew something was happening. Angels weren’t supposed to feel, they were supposed to obey. It was a compulsion to obey. But something within the very fabric of his own being changed when he was finally called upon to grab Dean Winchester from the pit. To save the Righteous Man from his own nature and his own pain. That was his task, his destiny. Many in his garrison died to get him there and once he was there Dean had shrieked and cried and clawed and punched and kicked. He fought to stay because the sheer thought of going back was terrifying. What was 40 years in the Pit was a much shorter time on Earth and in those quick 40 years he’d broken. He was not the Dean Winchester that everyone saw get dragged to hell and shredded by the Hounds.

That’s what Dean would say, but he could never hide from Castiel. After all, Cas was the one who stitched him back together. Even years later Dean would question him about it. It was happening again tonight. Sam was off somewhere doing research and eating healthy food, by Dean’s account. Being what Dean called a Lance Armstrong. Sam had seemed to disagree vehemently. Cas just watched and waited for the usual to happen, Sam walked out sighing and Dean half snickered and half groaned at it.

Castiel had nowhere to be at the present moment. Heaven was very, very quiet. Someone had reached into the cage and pulled Sam out almost as soon as he was in, soul and all. Cas knew there was only one kind of being capable of such a feat. Even Castiel wouldn’t have been able to recover that soul. It was an Archangel, there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever. But which one and why? Even Raphael was quiet. In fact, none of the angels in his garrison had seen him and they were very quiet when asked about it. It was far more than disconcerting.

But that wasn’t his concern tonight; tonight his concern was Dean Winchester. His human. Yes, _his_ human. He’d felt that way ever since he laid his hand on him and scorched his mark into his shoulder. That would forever mark Dean as Castiel’s. Even if he philandered with women, Castiel could see it in Dean. Loyalty, honor and honesty. The same man who once had wailed and acted like a demon upon being touched by the fated angel. This man who had the strength to come out of the pit and make a life afterward. He knew what Dean felt, he could sense it in him. The profound bond, though he’d never explained it to Dean exactly. He wasn’t sure how to translate it. Now he had to, though. Now Dean had asked again and he was supposed to tell. He wouldn’t let it go. Not that Cas blamed him. It was stuck in his head for good reason. Even years later Dean carried ghosts around from the Pit and its aftermath.

“Cas? You still here?” Dean took a swig of whiskey from a glass and looked at him heatedly, as was customary for his inquisitive Dean. You could not hide from him; he knew when you were lying. Always.

“Yes, where would I go?” That dry heave of a bemused chuckle accompanied by a nostalgic smile. His human’s smile, it was precious and very few ever saw it. The same could be said for the smiles that Castiel gave to Dean.

“Not what I meant, Cas. I mean you zoned out. You ever gonna explain the profound bond stuff? Or are you gonna fly off and avoid me for a month?” No, there was no more of that to be had. That was when emotions were new and more raw. When they were painful to be felt, even the pleasant ones hurt. The intensity is what had gotten him.

“No, I will not leave. You asked for an answer, and I will provide it. When you were in the pit, your soul started to fracture and tear. You were breaking from being in Hell and from performing the bidding of Alistair. You were not whole; you needed to be stitched back together.” Castiel paused; he’d slowly learned to recognize the different faces Dean made in conversation. He knew when a question was going to be raised and when to stop the let information sink in.

“So, when you said you put me back together. Raised me up from perdition or whatever, you weren’t talking about my body. You had to sew my soul back together? Like some friggin’ ripped up teddy bear? Is that what you’re saying? Shouldn't I remember that?” Dean’s analogies were always colorful and usually fairly accurate. Many people discounted Dean’s intelligence. They saw him as muscle and always gave Sam more credit. But Dean was very intelligent, just in different ways. It was fascinating.

“You do, those are the memories that haunt you. Also, yes. I took a piece from my own halo and fashioned it into a needle, then plucked my own feathers and transmuted them into string. I used my raw grace in its most pure manifestations to piece you back together. To make you whole.” Castiel watched the range of emotions wash over Dean’s face.

Confusion, followed by deep thought, then reasoning through it (with another analogy, no doubt), then realization and finally an outraged acceptance. “You used part of yourself to put me back together? Like if I was doing this I’d be ripping out part of my own damned soul to patch someone up?” His voice wasn’t raised, not really. But the outrage was spelled clearly in every syllable.

“Dean, your soul was never damned or I wouldn’t have sacrificed part of myself to heal it.” For a moment it was unclear whether Dean was going to yell and scream or stop talking altogether to think about what was being said. He did neither.

That was another trait of his human, he was unpredictable. “How much did you give up for me, Cas?” His voice shook, but it wasn’t anger. It was… guilt? Why was he guilty?

“You blame yourself for it.”

“Of course I do! You sacrificed your grace, man! After Anna I know what that shit is and I know how valuable and powerful it is!” He slammed his glass down on the bedside table, whiskey sloshing up and out. Dean had been stressed for many months since the derailment of the prize fight. The silence was what shook him most. It gave him too much time to think about old things and to work through his issues. “How much? Answer me, dammit!” Dean wasn’t going to tell Cas he owed him the explanation. If this new information was true then apparently the exact opposite was the case.

“Roughly one tenth of me went into repairing you, Dean.” Castiel sat in his chair at the small table in the even smaller seeming hotel room. While what many of his siblings would call a hairless ape sat staring at him, a confused mix of rage and guilt and something else Castiel couldn’t see, but could feel. In the process of grace transference there was an imprint; a link formed by the grace. It was still connected to him and therefore Cas knew what Dean was feeling. The grace acted almost like a transmitter in a way. It was still a part of Castiel, relaying information from its host back to its owner. It was why he fell in the first place. He could feel Dean’s love for Sam and Bobby and for Ellen and Jo. The elation when Castiel would show up and save him. His amusement at certain things Castiel would do. His rage when he or especially Sam was truly threatened. The resignation of his fate many months back. That was why Castiel had beaten Dean nearly to death in a back alleyway. He’d felt the fire Dean had to fight the hosts of Heaven. These supreme beings that seemed all-powerful and in an instant he was giving up and Castiel couldn’t and wouldn’t believe it. That was not his human and he wanted his human back. He wanted the man he loved back.

“So, just once more for the slow kids in class,” Dean licked his lips and flashed a nervous smile for a split second, “in human terms, you gave up part of your fucking soul to bring me back? Right? You were forever changed, right?”

“Yes.”

Dean’s head was physically stationary, but inside Castiel knew it was rolling and turning as it processed what it was being fed. It didn’t like it. Dean scooted back as far as possible and bent his legs, gesturing to the end of the bed with his hand. “Sit, now.” The force in his voice was uniquely him. It was a force that could kill you if need be and protect you with deadly force as well.

So Castiel stood, taking orders from his charge. He moved across the room and sat down. That was when the new urge came to him. This was the unexpected circumstance Castiel didn’t know how to deal with. He’d imagined himself telling Dean he loved him, telling him everything about feeling what Dean could feel. But he’d never imagined the carnal side of that. The very _human_ desires that could happen. He’d not had reason to; love was very different in an angel’s mind than in a human’s. Yet now something compelled him. It showed him images and forced memories back up to the surface. These images were different than the ones he normally brought on voluntarily. As often as he could manage he would literally relive his sacrifice for Dean. What humans would call the moment he fell in love. He would feel his soul beneath his hands once again.

These other images, though. They were very, very different from that. The images were physical, Dean’s actual body splayed before him. In his ears he could hear Dean’s voice as it pleaded for more of something. Normally Castiel would blame his reaction on his vessel, but he knew better this time. This carnal feeling, this lust for the man in front of him was not the will of his flesh. It was the will of his own grace as it felt the wishes of an imprinted soul.

Castiel only ever had one imprinted soul. It was as though something suddenly clicked within Dean and was making him act. The last piece of a puzzle aligned in such a way that a picture actually became clear to the viewer. Dean had probably over-analyzed the entire scenario with himself and Castiel. Reasoning things to be a certain way in order to avoid a different truth. He’d probably already done the research and had read about soul imprinting and grace transference. He’d know how rare it was for an angel to do such a thing. He’d know Castiel wouldn’t do it on a whim or even just to fulfill his orders. He’d do it for different reasons that couldn’t be denied. He’d also know he had emotions from that same ritual. Emotions he most likely didn’t want to deal with.

“You said you sewed me back with your feathers and your halo?” His voice was curious, almost incredulous. “How the hell do you even do that?”

“I took my halo from on top of my head and ripped a piece free and formed it into the necessary needle. Then I plucked feathers from my wings and stretched them out, then spun them into thread. Then I pieced your soul back together with great care. Similar to when you give Sam stiches if he is cut badly.” Cas said it so plainly. Like it wasn’t a massive deal. Like it didn’t break the very foundation of Dean’s reality to hear what was being said. It was just fact to Castiel, nothing more or less than that.

“Did it hurt?” Castiel could feel a sharp stabbing in his stomach. It hurt. He’d learned by now that this is what humans called a ‘pang’. Dean was hurting himself by even mentioning it.

Castiel hesitated responding, choosing first to imagine the ways he could soothe Dean. The ways he had soothed Dean when he was repairing him after rising from the pit. He’d learned a great deal about what would make Dean happy. He wasn’t sure where or why he’d neglected it in the past. He felt it wasn’t his place; he was obeying the whims of Heaven. But now he wasn’t. Now he was free and fallen and he could think of those things again. The way he rubbed Dean’s neck when the eyes of Heaven couldn’t reach. The sated smile Dean could have that was almost sloppy in how relaxed it was. Castiel had put them in a timeless place so that he could take all the time he needed to make the Righteous Man whole again. It had been a private place and he’d been allowed the leeway for it because of just who and what Dean was.

Dean still needed an answer and the longer Cas avoided it the stronger the pang got. “Yes, it hurt, Dean. But it was more than worth it.” A new pang. Different now, deeper and darker. Worthlessness and disgust with himself. He felt wholly unworthy of what he was being told. That hurt even more than the pain and anger Dean had felt before. Castiel couldn’t allow any more of this. He needed to soothe both Dean and himself. The physical feelings weren’t leaving and he wouldn’t allow Dean to wallow in misery. Not again.

Castiel reached out and took Dean’s hand forcefully, not allowing him to pull away. The hunter looked alarmed, ready for a fight. Cas just looked in his eyes, those green eyes that he sacrificed his own grace for in order to rid them of the black. Something in Dean stopped, he stopped pulling and Cas turned his hand over and began to rub and massage it, working out tension all the way into his forearm. He pulled the fragile body closer to himself and to _his_ body. One of the things Dean had taught him, Jimmy wasn’t there anymore; he was suppressed to the point where he may as well have been dead. That was his body. Especially considering the fact that Dean didn’t really see Cas getting yanked out the vessel ever again. He had to accept that it was his body now.

Dean seemed unsure as Castiel pulled him close. He positioned him on his knees, straddling one of Cas’ thighs. The trench coat slid off and the tie was being removed, as was his shirt. Then he gently began to remove Dean’s over shirt, then his undershirt. They mirrored each other, beginning to breathe heavily in a nearly silent hotel room, only their pants left. Castiel had also kicked off his shoes in the process. The man before him wasn’t drunk, Dean rarely got drunk anymore, but Castiel could feel his unsteady swaying. He leaned forward, looking up at his charge and offered him the most genuine smile he could manage. Something else slammed into him from Dean’s side. It was guilt and pleasure in equal portions.

“Don’t feel guilty for this, Dean. This is my choice, just as it was in the beginning to sacrifice my own grace to save you in place of another option. Choose a word to use if you truly want to stop at any point.”

Dean took in a deep breath, his hands gripping Castiel’s shoulders. “You want me to pick a safe word?” It was soft and unbelieving, because when did anything that good ever happen? When in his entire life was he ever given mercy and a choice and love when it didn’t come with a huge price tag. A price that usually spelled ‘not worth it’ if you looked long enough. That was not Dean Winchester’s life, he didn’t have a life where he got love and happiness and peace and a fucking safe word. Not him. Anyone else but him because Goddammit he didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t.

“A word, Dean, please.” Castiel’s lips gently pressed into the skin of Dean’s chest as his fingers kneaded into the muscles in his back, loosening the tension there as well.

“What if Sammy comes back?” The tension and worry was flooding back and Castiel was actually becoming angry at him, it was like he was determined to be miserable.

“Sam is being safely distracted by another angel, someone I trust with him. He’ll come to no harm and he won’t be back for hours. Relax Dean, and please, choose a word.” Castiel even loosed some of his grace, healing bruises along Dean’s midsection.

Dean felt the warmth creeping into his skin and it was familiar, he knew what Cas was doing. A word, what word could he pick? He couldn’t just pick one at random. It had to be something he’d remember and something that had a meaning. “Okay, uh, the word.” His eyes closed and he tried to think of something. He chuckled as he found something fitting. “Heh, um. Halo.” The familiar dark blue eyes that he saw in his sleep looked up at him, a smirk in them and something deeper. Dean could almost swear he felt whatever it was. Like he was feeling it, too. He nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, halo. That’s my safe word.”

“As you wish, Dean.” Castiel threw him down against the mattress and was hovering above him, hands on either side of his ribs.

His mouth met Dean’s, the kiss was tender and he almost felt like he was crazy for thinking it, but the kiss felt familiar. Safe, normal, like it had happened before. Dean surrendered into that safety and familiarity. He needed this, even if he hadn’t known it when Cas showed up. He needed the Guardian Angel who’d been dissolved by blood wards and blown apart by Lucifer and who had sacrificed a tenth of himself just to bring Dean back with as few side-effects as possible. He wrapped his legs around Cas’ hips and didn’t think about his sexuality, about it being awkward and weird. What he did think about were odd flashed he was getting of being in a brightly-lit room, crying and angry and this same angel that was above him now kissing him then. Soothing him, whispering in Enochian to help him sleep. Memories? Fantasies? A soft push of strong hips into his groin caused him to grunt and push back in return.

Castiel had his mouth pressed into Dean’s for minutes on end, tasting the whiskey and Dean and not much else on the hunter’s tongue. It worried him that Dean hadn’t eaten much. One hand trailed up Dean’s side, grace glowing and healing as it went. Dean moaned and Castiel couldn’t help his smile and his _pride_ at that noise. It wasn’t just the pleasure; it was Dean’s release and security with Cas that did it. Dean was so guarded that there were times he couldn’t even talk to the man. But that moan. In his mind he vowed to always remember exactly the way it sounded as it slipped from Dean’s mouth into his. As his hand worked he also broke the kiss, his lips and tongue making a path down Dean’s jaw and neck. He could remember a spot on Dean’s throat, just over his pulse point, where he gently nipped and caused a rough bucking of hips. This was familiar; this was the Dean he soothed in that timeless room.

Dean’s hands dug into Castiel’s back as he became progressively more aroused. It was hard to restrain, to just let Cas take control. Dean wasn’t patient and he wanted to just let it all go, to rip his Guardian’s pants off and make him writhe in pleasure. To give him some fucking happiness for once. But that wasn’t right. It needed to be slow. He’d have to endure the pace for this to be right. This wasn’t forceful, hell it wasn’t even sex as Dean thought of it. It was strange and calm and good and deep and it was healing. That’s what it was, it was healing. Castiel giving of himself yet again to save poor Dean Winchester.

“Don’t think that of yourself, Dean.” Castiel’s face rose, sitting inches above Dean’s.

“You can hear what I’m thinking now?” His voice was alarmed; he didn’t need anyone else in his head, let alone Cas. The things he said and thought about everyone, about himself. No, not happening. Not even for Castiel.

“No, Dean, I can feel what you’re feeling. The more intimate we become and the more grace I expose the more acute it is.” Castiel said it so calmly, not patronizing him or mocking him for not knowing. Just explaining it and leaving it at that. It felt good.

He wasn’t as alarmed. After all, empathy was different than telepathy, wasn’t it? Somewhere in him he felt an odd disconnect at the mention of the word intimate in this context and in any other. Maybe at another point in time it would have bothered him, but it didn’t now. He was accepting it as it happened. He decided to go out on a limb and take a wild guess at why Cas was so at ease and _good_. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we? In some bright room somewhere? Right after the Pit?” Dean felt raw and exposed to Castiel’s view. Much like he always did, but it was different now. Like Cas could see inside him.

“Yes.” Castiel’s voice got smoother with the memories and a telling throb let him know why. He’d enjoyed it then. “I didn’t imagine we’d be engaging in this activity again.”

Dean chuckled nervously, it was the only thing he could think to do. “But wait, you’re a virgin, right? You got freaked in that brothel.”

“It was a den of iniquity. I was uncomfortable and unfamiliar with the concept of carnal lust.” He could see Dean’s eye brows furrow, his eyes hardening in slight confusion. A silent look of _but what about us_. “Love isn’t iniquity, Dean.”

“Oh.” He said softly, like it was just so obvious. This time Dean resumed the kiss, pulling Castiel down to him. That was the end of whatever discussion he needed. His hands pushed between their two bodies and undid the belts and the flies. Cas pulled back and looked down, seemingly amused at the ease with which Dean undid both sets of pants without even looking. “You don’t pick as many locks as I have without learning a few tricks.” He laughed softly, a genuine smile along with it.

More pride and warmth poured into Castiel. Happiness, just what he wanted to see. His mouth moved lower, licking and kissing his chest and abdomen.

Dean didn’t think Cas was playing fair about it either, his hands and lips and even his tongue were warm. He was sure somewhere there had to be a rule about using grace as a sexual stimulant. His pants were yanked down and pulled off. Dean propped himself up to his elbows to see Castiel eyeing him as he stood at the foot of the bed, pants undone and mouth swollen. This was a different side of Cas, one Sam and Bobby wouldn’t recognize, but he’d seen this before, even if he didn’t remember all of what he saw. Cas pushed his own pants down and climbed back on top of Dean just in time for Dean to flip them over so that he was on top.

They both laughed softly, forgetting stress and the world outside the hotel room. This didn’t need outside care and worries. After all, it was Dean’s guilt and outside worries that had put them there. Dean gently bit Castiel’s collar bone and savored the feeling of Cas’ hips jutting upward to rub against his body, a choked moan caught in the angel’s throat. He wasn’t sure what about the situation made him feel happy, even elated, but he couldn’t help his laughter as Cas’ eyes flew open and he bored into him with those dark blues. Maybe he was delirious. But wouldn’t anyone else be? He was practically high. He didn’t know what Castiel was doing, the whole imprint and emotion thing, but everything was doubled. He felt happy and he felt that Cas was happy. It was almost exactly like being under the influence, just crisper, clearer and it was genuine.

Dean sat up, resting comfortably on Castiel’s thighs and regarded the angel below him. A few things struck him about Cas that he’d not seen before. He wouldn’t be risking his life to get involved with him. Cas was about as involved with the Winchesters as anyone could get and the guy could literally smite demons where they stood. Dean didn’t have to worry about a cell phone or any other technology that could get separated from him or Cas. He just needed to pray. Cas understood what he was feeling, he didn’t have to talk and screw it up, he could just let himself feel it and Cas would know. This time he did feel stupid for realizing that after all this time what he’d needed most was standing right behind him with a deadpan expression and an old trench coat.

Castiel knew the decision Dean was coming to and smiled, one hand reaching forward to touch Dean’s cheek before falling to his erection, fingers gliding over his skin. The groan Dean gave was guttural, raw. Another one to commit the memory. Cas slid out from under Dean slightly, sitting up straight before fully wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock. His face was determined, as was Dean’s when he mirrored Castiel’s movements. Dean smirked as Cas’ eye lids fluttered with the contact.

“Damn, Cas, you need to get laid more.” He chuckled and squeezed.

“Is that an offer?” Castiel relaxed and groaned softly, his wings even coming unfurled as he let his grace free within his vessel.

Dean’s eyes followed a shimmering in the air, like he could see Cas’ wings but he couldn’t. His hand roughly jerked the angel’s head to his, a needy and almost painful kiss distracting them both for a moment. This felt right, this exchange of emotions, words, bareness and vulnerability. This was what had been missing. The reason they were both so miserable for so long. It was this contact. Dean almost wanted to be mad at Cas for not telling him sooner about the ‘sun room’ as he was coming to call it in his head. But he knew what his reaction would have been then. Denial.

Finally he gathered enough of himself to break the kiss and respond to Castiel. “No, that’s a promise.”

They both began to work their hands up and down, Castiel moving slower, but his grace free to tease Dean’s skin as he tried to keep up. It was similar to another experience from the room. Castiel could still see it when he needed; Dean’s pleasured face as he desperately fought for composure. He felt an obligation to pleasure Cas at the same time that he was being tended to. Maybe it was a sense of honor being imposed into another area of the hunter’s life. Just another constant to prove that Dean was a good man.

Cas brought his legs up, forcing Dean to let go and relax into him. Dean’s thighs were now around Castiel’s chest, his back resting rather comfortably against his Guardian’s thighs and knees like he sat in a recliner. He tried to keep his head up, not letting it roll backwards. He wanted to look Cas in the eye while he serviced him. Then Cas’ head dipped down and Dean thought the image alone may make him lose it. Those lips that had whispered Enochian to soothe him, which had been kissing him and helping suck on his skin were now sucking him off. It was too much for him to stay rational. The sensation was too damned much. His head fell back and he began to thrust into the angel’s mouth. It wasn’t enough. The leverage wasn’t right. Dean pushed Castiel off and pushed him down, a dangerous and dazed smile gracing his face as he placed his erection at Castiel’s lips. This time with Cas lying flat on his back. He was welcomed quite warmly, losing himself in the motions and the sensations of his lover’s tongue squirming as his grace sizzled and tingled along his skin. It got stronger every second. Like static building up as someone drug their feet across a carpet.

Dean braced with one arm in front of him on the wall, one hand behind Castiel’s head. The sight of this powerful and willful being beneath him, pleasuring him with a _smile_ as he did so. He couldn’t stop staring at it. His forehead rested on his arm and watched the entire time as Cas held his hips and cock, his grip unaffected by the sweat quickly collecting on his skin. The emotional bit was kicking in harder now. The more grace Cas touched him with, the stronger and more in sync it became. He knew Cas was more than happy to do this for him and that just made it feel even better. His thrusts were getting jerkier by the second, rougher and less controlled. He was so close.

“Castiel.” The name hung in the air after he whispered it; he loved saying it as he looked into the friend’s eyes. He gripped Cas’ hair tighter, grunting as he got closer and closer. The feeling of static was now just plain heat and even if Cas wasn’t sucking him off he’d have had an orgasm. He shouted, Castiel’s name ground out somewhere in the long guttural noise while he held the angel’s face flush with his pelvis, his knuckles white and he was sure he was going to rip off part of Castiel’s scalp and part of him didn’t even care. It felt too damned good. It wasn’t just an orgasm; it wasn’t like he couldn’t masturbate. This was completion. After a few moments something else hit him that left him reeling nearly as much as his initial orgasm, Castiel was swallowing and sucking him as he went limp. He growled and moaned, looking down at a pair of smiling eyes.

He finally managed to come down from his high a bit and he released Castiel’s head, glancing over his shoulder to see Castiel’s cock turned purple and leaking precum everywhere. Dean scooted backwards and shot Castiel a cheeky smile when he tried to say he didn’t need to. A smile that said even if he didn’t _need_ to he was going to. He took Castiel in his hand and kissed the tip while he jacked him off, licking and only ever sucking the head. It was delicious to see and hear, Cas writhing and grunting and pleading. It was perfect. He was being driven completely nuts and even more than that, Dean could definitely feel it now. He could feel the tension like it was his own. Then one of Cas’ hands shot up from its knotted position in the sheets and slammed Dean’s head down as Castiel screamed and released into his throat. The scream was so loud that Dean didn’t even think there were words. But as he drank down Castiel’s orgasm he realized it was his name being screamed loud enough that he was surprised windows weren’t shattering. Cas spasmed hard and Dean thought for a second he jinxed himself when every lightbulb in the room exploded. Eventually Castiel calmed, his eyes staying wide open. When he managed to lift his head to look at Dean, he laughed blissfully, Dean smiling in kind.

He crawled up the angel’s body and kissed him deeply, Cas rolling them onto their sides. Dean put his leg over Cas’ hip and prepared to get comfortable. He yawned and remembered Sam would eventually be back.

“There any way to mojo some blankets or something over us?” Castiel chuckled and Dean felt a heavy comforter gently settle over top of them.

“I love you, Dean.” Cas was barely thinking coherently and the emotions of everything that happened overwhelmed him for the first time in months.

Dean kissed him and smiled. “I uh, I love you, too, Cas.” It wasn’t necessarily awkward to admit, just odd to say aloud.

Later, when Sam finally came back after a fascinating conversation with a woman who appeared and disappeared almost like she didn’t exist, he saw Dean and Castiel asleep in bed together. He checked his eyes, rubbing and even rinsing them before deciding he really was seeing what he thought he was. He couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to say finally or make them get their own room, but at least they were decent enough that he could sleep and pretend they were fully clothed under the blanket. Yep, those clothes on the floor, _those_ were the illusion. He just needed some sleep. That was all. He called Bobby and filled him in on what he could gather from sheer observation and Bobby replied with a ‘huh, well, can’t say we didn’t see this coming,’ and that had been the end of the conversation. Maybe they’d talk when they got back to Bobby’s. With as few details as possible.

Or no details at all, that would be good. Yeah. Sam lay down in his bed and sighed, falling asleep surprisingly quickly.


End file.
